Nine
by The Plotsman
Summary: The second life was interesting. It was all there in front of her, might as well enjoy it. Reincarnation, femNaru.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Kudos to you that know where this is going. It's not very subtle, but I tried to bury the lead a little. Naruto's universe, for the purposes of this story, is just another in the Marvel multiverse.

* * *

There were a billion billion deaths out there, one for every being that was or ever would be. You avoided one and you found another. Naruto knew this. All things considered, his was one of the good ones. He'd killed in battle, seen men executed for the good of the village, done some of the execution himself, but it was rare that a ninja—especially a kage—lived into his retirement and died of old age surrounded by family and friends. He was fine with it. Less fine with what came after. Not that it was unpleasant, just unexpected.

The quintessence of his existence, as he'd known it for an indeterminate amount of time since his death, consisted of warmth and comfort and darkness. He might have given in to the peace of whatever this was if not for the ache that was Kurama's absence. His constant companion for more than a century, and Naruto felt his absence not through the silence but the distinct lack of his presence that he'd never felt before. Alone in a body—the very core of his being, really—when he'd never known the feeling. It felt wrong despite the rightness of everything else.

In the darkness, he could only mark time by his awareness of his burgeoning strength and autonomy. As time marched inexorably onward, he gained a sense of the darkness and found, to his surprise, that it was not endless. And, as his strength grew and he gained some measure of control over his movements, the space became smaller. He started marking time by the growing discomfort of the gradually shrinking space. The discomfort grew and grew, inevitably reaching a quiet crescendo.

One moment he'd been cramped but content and in the next he was suffocating. The space, whatever its nature had been before, grew hostile and seemed to contract and squeeze with much more urgency than the glacial pace at which it had been doing so before. For one manic moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity, Naruto thought that it might kill him. He was dead once and rapidly approaching a second.

And then he was out. He could feel the light on his skin, and the air filled his lungs, and he'd wailed for minutes before he realized he'd been doing anything of the sort. He'd been washed, swaddled, and lain on a soft surface before he could fully comprehend the world around him. But surely anything would be better than that violent suffocating compression that had come shortly before.

The world was suddenly abundant with space that the darkness had been lacking, and it was cold, and the brightness stung his eyes even past the eyelids he couldn't muster the strength to open. As time went on, he was aware of someone picking him up, putting his mouth to what could only have been a nipple, and his mouth filling with milk. He was aware of the indignity of moving his bowels and emptying his bladder without any way to control either. People came and went, picked him up, put him down, cleaned and fed him, all without his consent.

Being a baby—what else could this be?—seemed to be nothing more than an exercise in indignity. Whatever extremely unlikely course of events had caused him to relive this indignity with full awareness, Naruto cursed it.

Eventually, after some amount of time (he counted thirteen feedings), Naruto opened his eyes while he suckled at his mother's breast. He saw her face for the first time. It was heart shaped and fair skinned, framed by a plethora of long, wavy, black hair. What really caught his attention were her eyes. The sclera were black and the irides were red. They were striking in appearance and he might have been afraid, if not for the warmth of her smile as she caught him looking.

"There you are," she whispered. "There's my baby girl."

Something was very wrong.

* * *

It must have been some greater being or power—or greater being of greater power—that had set these events into motion. Too many things lined up too well, and then other things were different, seemingly at random.

The fact that she was a girl was first and foremost. Why engineer the rebirth of Uzumaki Naruto only to have him be reborn as a female? Her name was too close to the original as well—Naruko—just close enough, almost as though it was meant to be convenient to her. Although being born the opposite gender undermined that theory. She was blonde as she'd been in her previous life, and, having been born a mutant, she had power that was eerily reminiscent in feel to chakra. However, as similar as harnessing this power was to harnessing chakra, the applications were markedly more limited.

Passively increased strength, senses, and durability reminiscent of active chakra enhancements. However, the power could only be externalized as generation and control over electricity. It was like the power was designed to simultaneously help and limit her. A sledgehammer to chakra's fully stocked toolbox. Through study and practice she'd learned to squeeze some measure of utility out of her power, but it was hardly as versatile as anything she'd been capable of as Naruto Uzumaki.

Fifteen years spent ruminating on her new circumstances and mastering this new body had left her at the frustrating conclusion that if, in fact, some god had pilfered the mind and soul of Uzumaki Naruto and had inserted them into this body it could only have been to serve a purpose. She could only speculate as to what that purpose was, but the shinobi in her had settled into the old mission routine. She didn't think that she wanted to run any kind of mission for whatever or whomever had done this, but the patterns were ingrained in her. The parameters were new, but the operating procedure was familiar (even if the goal was unknown). A good shinobi's first task was recon and information gathering.

Her mother was Japanese and her father was a blonde Icelander. She understood her parents' speech perfectly, which she chalked up to the language being identical to the one of her old world's. But, as she grew older and interacted with other people and other cultures through school and media alike, it became apparent that this world had many languages—a ridiculous amount, really—and that she understood every single one. Without study or effort, she'd been granted understanding of all the tongues of man. If that hadn't been done intentionally for her convenience, then nothing could prove her theory.

Aiko Sato, her mother, was a composer. She was small and delicate and covered from neck to ankle in irezumi which were a striking contrast against her lightly colored cardigans and warm blouses. She worked mostly from home except for the infrequent occasions when she was needed in a recording studio or at a performance. She was kind and attentive, but when she was working, she was a woman of singular focus.

Naruko had inherited her eyes—red irides and black sclera—and that was seemingly all. She was tall, her mother was short; she was athletic and covered in the evidence of years of daily training, while her mother was soft and disinclined towards vigorous physical activity; her mother was a magician in the kitchen, and Naruko managed instant ramen adequately. Even their powers were dissimilar. She took after her father in most ways.

Thor Geirtýrsson looked the part of the mythical god he'd been named after. Naruko stood at 180 centimeters tall and her father dwarfed even her by a head. He was muscular and wore his hair long and his beard in a braid. For all that he looked every inch the viking warrior he might have descended from, he was gentle and made a modest living raising a few sheep and cattle. She had inherited her innate understanding of all languages from him, which must have been a mutant ability coupled with his strength. He'd never debunked the theory. There were no outward signs of mutation, but his raw strength was greater than Naruko's own. She could lift a midsize sedan with ease, but she'd seen him lift a trailer truck to impress children and never so much as break a sweat.

Their home, a red house on an Icelandic grassland that gave way in the south to a rocky beach and in the north to forested hills and dramatic mountains, was always full of music and love and exactly the idyllic family life she'd always dreamed of as a young boy in Konoha. Naruto Uzumaki had had his wife and children and home, and she still loved them all dearly, but it was different. To grow up happy. A storybook life on an idyllic farm with two loving parents, was more than she ever could have hoped for in her previous life. She didn't mind not being Naruto Uzumaki, she didn't mind being a woman. She wanted to enjoy this life, whatever the implications or consequences, for as long as she could. She only wished she didn't miss Kurama as much as she did.

It had never felt right, that chasm his presence had left. It had felt wrong in the womb and it felt wrong now. But Kurama had probably found happiness; whether he'd gone to some afterlife or he'd regained his form, he was probably better off, no matter how much she missed him. It shamed her to admit it, but she missed him more than she missed Hinata, Boruto, and Himawari. More than she missed her children's children whom she'd spoiled rotten, more than she missed all of Konoha. Now here she was, living the childhood of Naruto Uzumaki's dreams and it was wrong because Kurama was gone and she hadn't known life without his constant presence for a century and a half that had encompassed Naruto Uzumaki's life.

And it was this wrongness that focussed her on her mission—what could only be a mission, even lacking any kind of intel on the objective. Her life was blessed, especially for a mutant. Iceland was a very forward thinking and free country. They didn't subscribe to the discriminatory attitude towards mutants that most of the rest of the world did. She had rights where the lack of such had driven many mutants to band together under Magneto's terrorist Brotherhood of Mutants. She wasn't afraid of sudden attacks in a crowd every time she drove her father's truck to market or her mother played a concert. She didn't have to hide who she was, fear that one day society might see fit to end her life (although they'd have a hell of a fight on their hands if it came to that). On the contrary, children begged for her to display her powers whenever her family was at the nearest town. They shouted delight when she pulled lightning from the sky into her waiting hands. They showered them in oohs and ahhs when her father lifted a car over his head one-handed and her mother breathed circles of flame into the air, going as far as to shape the flame into dancing humanoid figures. A similar display in America was liable to get a mutant killed.

No, other mutants were much worse off. And Naruko Thorsdóttir couldn't help but think that whatever her purpose was, it lay beyond the shores of near-utopic Iceland. For now, however, she had no desire to leave. She lived her life in contentment, training as a matter of habit, and enjoying the good fortune given to her by whomever had engineered this new life.

Life continued in that vein until her father's disappearance. He'd gone into the forest one stormy morning on the eve of her fifteenth birthday and disappeared without a trace. She remembered his final words to her.

"I have to go settle some business. I may be gone a long while, but not even Ragnarok will keep me from you and your mother."

It had been two years and she had seen neither head nor tail of him since.


	2. Chapter 2

Naruko woke on the morning of her seventeenth birthday well before the sun, as was her wont on most days. Her room was dark, but her eyes could make out every corner clearly. Bare walls, two windows with the curtains drawn shut, a pile of boxes that she'd yet to unpack, and a spartan dresser drawer with a mirror against the wall. She caught her own gaze in the mirror. She looked the same as the day before. The same intense red eyes, wavy blonde hair, fine features and full lips. Just a normal teenage mutant girl, but that wrongness was still there. The yawning chasm that Kurama's absence had left. She was dealing.

She slipped out from under the covers, and into a pair of athletic leggings, a sports bra, and an orange hoodie. Her fingers worked quickly and dexterously, gathering her long hair into a loose plait and she was out the door in a few short minutes.

She ran along the streets of the Forest Hills neighborhood in Queens. It had become a ritual, regardless of the city they were living in. She ran the city before the first light of day. The direction didn't matter, but she ran west today, towards Manhattan and away from the closest thing to a suburb in New York City.

She ran through yards, hopped fences, hopped whole houses when necessary, and, when the houses and tree cover faded into multi-story buildings and dark streets illuminated by the sickly orange of streetlamps, she ran across the rooftops. Accompanied only by the sounds of a city that never sleeps and her own footfalls, she used this time as a sort of meditation. No need to think or wonder, no guessing at meanings or implications regarding the events surrounding her life. The only thing was the running itself, the only goal was the next step.

A scream broke her stride on top of a five-story building. The scream was high and feminine and cut abruptly short by cursing and the sounds of a scuffle. As she focused her hearing she heard threats.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch."

A couple steps and a jump that cleared the street below to the building directly opposite the last placed her right above an alley created by the space between two buildings. She sighed. It was a common scene; big cities bred petty criminals in abundance. Two men—one armed with a knife, the other with a pistol—mugging a woman in the wee hours of morning. The gunman kept his pistol trained on the woman who was cowering against the wall. The other tried to rifle through her purse while also keeping hold of his knife. It was awkward work and Naruko might have laughed at his efforts if not for his partner's growing frustration.

"Hurry the fuck up," spoke the gunman. His partner, nerves already running high, fumbled the purse and its contents spilled on the concrete. This set off another round of cursing and it drew a chuckle from her lips before she quashed it and stepped off the edge of the building. She landed in a crouch and somewhere in the back of her mind berated herself for the thud—she was heavy, much heavier than a normal human, close to 205 kilos, despite her athletic physique.

The gunman was alerted by the sound but she snatched the pistol out of his hand before he could blink. She threw it over her shoulder, deeper into the alley. It landed with a clatter somewhere in the dark.

"Who the—"

"You should just go, boys. I really don't want to have to hit you." She cut him off with a smirk she doubted they could make out away from the light of the streetlamps.

A look of incredulity crossed the disarmed man's face and he turned to his partner. "These wannabe heroes are crawling outta the woodwork." He looked her up and down as he retreated behind his partner. "Pretty one, too. Won't be for long." He gave his partner's shoulder a little push. "Will you cut this bitch already?"

He approached slowly, knife leading the way. She sized him up. He was tall and weedy, light skin with mousy brown hair and a jaw covered in stubble. The knife shook despite his tight grip. An exasperated sigh passed through her lips.

"Come on, man, are you serious with this? You're shaking more than her." Naruko gestured at the woman, who, despite her fear, was watching the situation with rapt attention and squeaked when the focus was put back on her. The man's gaze turned to the woman and he was fixated, his dark eyes wide and dilated, his mind caught in the grip of a heady mixture of fear and adrenaline. Naruko snapped her fingers twice.

"No, no. Keep your eyes over here." She gestured to herself and his attention snapped back to her. The knife was shaking slightly less. She could tell by the set of his jaw that he was decided, but Naruko gave him one last chance. "You've got a choice here. Drop the knife, go home—"

"Cut her!" shouted the disarmed gunman.

"Or you can take that asshole's advice and I'll have to hit you." It was that or electrocution.

"It's just some chick, you got like fifty pounds on her. Just do it and let's go!" The gunman sounded off again and his partner's back seemed to straighten a bit, his shoulders were set, the knife stopped its shaking, and he took a step forward. She decided a slap would suffice. You never knew who you might kill when you threw lightning at them.

"Okay. But a piece of advice: come at me right here." She gestured at the center of her generous bust. "Once you're committed, well... you might as well go for broke, right?" She flashed her teeth at him in a grin and the man crossed the distance between them in four long strides, knife leading, aiming for the heart. It was over before he knew it. Naruko sidestepped to the right and struck him across the face with an open palm. The man crumpled to the ground and the knife clattered away, joining the gun in the darkness.

"Shit! Fuck! I'm sorry! Oh, god! A fucking super, just my luck." The gunman fled into the night, his friend long forgotten.

Naruko turned to the woman who was gaping at the fallen form of the knife wielder in disbelief. "You okay?" Her gaze passed over the woman, up and down, looking for any wounds. She was perfectly fine, not even a rip in her blue scrubs. Naruko would put her at around middle-aged. Crow's feet at the corners of her brown eyes, and a sprinkling of grey in her brown hair. She was pretty and her mouth was bracketed by laugh lines. A nurse maybe, on her way to or from work before being waylaid.

"I told them I didn't wanna hit them." The woman's eyes turned to her and a smile broke out over her face and before rushed Naruko and enveloped her in a hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she repeated it like a mantra. Naruko just patted her back consolingly. After a minute the woman let go, and, seemingly possessed by a wild and righteous fury, kicked the unconscious man in the ribs.

"Whoa! Hey, stop." Naruko placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back. "I'm pretty sure I did enough damage for both of us," she was chuckling as she said it, but it was true, too. Naruko turned the would-be mugger over and got a look at his face. It was smeared in a mixture of blood and saliva from where he'd been laying on it, and a close inspection revealed the beginnings of a nasty bruise from where she'd slapped him as well as a laceration above his cheekbone and along his orbital socket. There were three teeth in the puddle of blood and saliva on the floor. She didn't know if the laceration was the doing of her hand or the floor when he fell, but she could safely take credit for the teeth.

Naruko sucked air between her teeth. "Jesus. Like tissue paper, this guy." She'd gone out of her way not to punch him, but even just a slap and her strength was too much for a normal human. A light blinked on over her shoulder—the flashlight on the victim's phone—and the woman gasped, a sound somewhere between shock and sympathy. Naruko stood and tried to lead the woman away. "It's best if we just call him an ambulance—"

She was cut off by the woman's second gasp. She had caught a good look at Naruko's eyes, which she usually kept covered up with sunglasses since they'd moved away from Iceland, but were bare because she'd been running across rooftops in the darkness and didn't think she would need them.

"A-are you a mutant?" she asked. Naruko didn't see any of the customary fear in her eyes when it came to the subject of mutants in America. Charles Xavier and his X-men had done a lot for the public image of mutants and, after saving some influential figure or other, they'd even managed to get a law passed criminalizing governmental discrimination against mutants, but the general public was still unpredictable. No matter how much Spider-Man, the Fantastic Four, Captain America, and countless others did to put a friendly face on super powered people, Magneto's terrorist organization made it easy for common people to single out mutants as an 'other' to be feared.

"Yeah, that I am," Naruko replied with a world-weary sigh. She started to fish her shades out of her hoodie pocket before the woman's hand on her wrist stopped her.

"Oh, stop all that." She was smiling warmly at her. "A good person has no need for shame."

Naruko's hand scratched the back of her head, a habit she hadn't been able to break even in a new life. "Not shame, really. Just... expediency, I guess."

"Well, I'm May, May Parker, and there's no need for any of that with me. You're a hero in my book."

"Well, May, May Parker, we should really call this guy an ambulance. And the police."

"Oh, an ambulance. Absolutely." She took another glance at the man. "But the police? Surely that's punishment enough."

Naruko smiled. May was a compassionate soul. She gave May's shoulder a squeeze.

"If you say so."

* * *

They'd gone their separate ways after that, but Naruko met May Parker again later that day. As it turned out, they were next door neighbors. She'd come to the door to deliver a plate of cookies, a housewarming gift for her new neighbors. May's face lit up in delight when Naruko answered the door. And then she'd met Naruko's mother. Two sweet women of around the same age, they got on like a house on fire.

Of course they'd got to talking about their children—nephew, in May's case—and the conversation had turned to her own birthday. Naruko was content not to celebrate; birthday celebrations lost their luster after more than a century of birthdays. Even if her body was young, she was still old at heart. However, her mom always made sure to at least put a candle in a cupcake and kiss her on the cheek when the day came. Now, May Parker, seeing the lack of celebration, had insisted Naruko go over to her house and meet her nephew. She was so sweet, Naruko didn't resist as she was ushered through the doorway, up the stairs, and into a teenage boy's room.

It was messy. An unmade bed sat in the corner, a desk under a window, posters on the walls, and a seventeen year-old boy in a desk chair, looking surprised and like he was trying to convey an air of nonchalance. Boys did that around her; she was a pretty girl and teenage boys often tried to project an air of cool when she was around. It was usually hilarious, but Peter was not looking at her but at his aunt.

"Oh, Peter, I wish you'd clean this room," May lamented as she bustled around and started gathering clothes that had been strewn about the floor. Peter watched May from his seat and Naruko watched him. A muscle kept jumping in his jaw and his eyes alternated from focusing on May to flickering up to the ceiling. Curious, she looked up. A bundle of red and blue spandex was adhered to the ceiling by what looked white strands.

Webs.

She turned back to Peter who was now looking at her with undisguised horror. She couldn't help but burst out in laughter. She doubled over and tried to master herself. New York City was host to more than a few costumed vigilantes, but she never thought she would just stumble into one's bedroom.

"Aunt May, please!" Peter cried. She couldn't tell whether he was playing the embarrassed teenager or being entirely genuine. May straightened up, pile of clothing in her arms.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop embarrassing you." She moved to leave the room. "This is Naruko, by the way. I told you about her. Be nice." Peter almost chased her out, closing and locking the door behind her and then leaning against it. Naruko plopped down in his abandoned chair, smiling and alternating her gaze between him and the costume on the ceiling.

"Soo...," she trailed off while gesturing at the bundle of cloth and webbing.

"T-that's... that's really not what it looks like."

"So you're for sure _not_ Spider-Man. You don't swing around the city in tights and fight crime, none of it?"

"Uh, nope. Just your average mild mannered teenage boy. Big time Spidey fan. But not, uh, you know, spidery in the least."

"Sure, okay." She turned the chair to the desk. There was a laptop and various pieces of technology in several states of being taken apart and put back together. She picked up what looked like a bracelet of some sort and started fiddling with it.

"Please don't—"

With a _thwip_, a strand of webbing fired out of a nozzle on the bracelet and attached itself to the wall.

She smiled smugly and put the web-shooter back on the desk. "So, what's up, not-Spider-Man?"

"Ned's gonna kill me." Peter put his head in his hands and groaned pitifully. An observer might gather the impression that his world was falling to pieces. She chuckled and watched him gather his composure. He was shorter than her by an inch or so, but, looking past his baggy pants and slightly oversized shirt, he was strong. His build was wiry and she could see the vascularity in his forearms. Like her, he was extremely well developed for a teen his age.

"Would you stop? I'm not going to tell anyone." He looked up at her in incredulity. She took off her sunglasses, dark mirrored affairs with circular frames. "From what I've heard, you save people. If you want to keep it a secret, that's fine with me. Although, you might consider a better system." She gestured again at the costume on the ceiling. "Just in case, ya know, someone looks up."

He sighed and gained some self-control. "Right, yeah. She surprised me, I was about to go out and," he looked around shiftily and lowered his voice, "patrol. Thus the, uh, hasty job." He shrugged and she could see another web-shooter on his wrist. He was looking at her face, specifically her eyes. "Mutant, right? May, uh, told me. You saved her life this morning. I can't thank you enough. Don't know what I'd do without her. I keep telling her to uber home."

He was babbling, spouting words at a mile a minute, like he might burst if he didn't get them out. It was endearing and Naruko couldn't help but grin as she let him run off at the mouth for a moment before cutting him off.

"Look, Peter, I don't need any thanks. Besides your aunt did enough of that this morning for both of you. And it's not like I was going to let her get mugged. I _could_ help so I did. All there is to it." She shrugged and leaned further back in the chair.

"Great power, great responsibility," he whispered but she heard it anyway.

"Yep, that about sums it up." His head jerked up in surprise at her response. And she chuckled again. "We're _super_ people, Peter."

"True." He moved away from the door and flopped down on his bed. "What are your powers anyway? It's probably more than trippy eyes, right? Not that those aren't cool. Gotta be super strength, right? May says you slapped three teeth out of that mugger's mouth. Little excessive, you ask me, but he _was _mugging my aunt."

She watched him as he babbled. He was compassionate, even for some scumbag mugger missing a few teeth. Just like his aunt. And if the amount he spoke and all the disassembled tech was any indication, he was either hyperactive or a genius. He was a good kid.

"I didn't mean to hurt him badly." She cut him off again. She imagined it was a normal part of talking to Peter Parker, especially when he was nervous. "I try not to hit normal people, they're... fragile. Even if I hold back. So yeah, super strength." She started ticking off her fingers as she listed them. "Pretty good senses, durability, stamina. All the mundane stuff. There's also this." She wiggled her fingers and red electricity arced between them accompanied by a crackling sound. His eyes goggled at that. "And I can speak every language."

He was quiet for a while, like he didn't know where to start. But he did start eventually. "That's a lot, even for a mutant—_especially _for a mutant. You know, I read a few of Dr. Xavier's papers. It's pretty rare for a mutant to be born with multiple powers, and usually they're activated by stressors in their environment. I mean there're a lot of variables. And you said _every_ language. Did you learn them, or just know them? Your accent sounds Scandinavian, so say something to me in, uhh—nothing Germanic—mandarin! Say something in mandarin." He looked at her expectantly. Definitely a genius then. Very likely hyperactive, too.

Naruko stood from her seat and the chair groaned in relief as she did so. She focused for a second, trying to find the feel for specifically mandarin—usually when she spoke people heard their native tongue, but all languages had a certain feel, like a timbre or a taste, and she could speak in those languages specifically if she tried—and said, "you're a strange kid," in the requested language. "Now, let's go," she finished normally.

"Where are we going?" he asked, kipping up and out of bed with unnatural skill.

"You said you were gonna go on-" she made air quotes with her fingers, "patrol. So let's go. Your aunt brought me here for my birthday, and for my birthday I'd like to see Spider-Man in action. Get your pyjamas."

"Oh." His eyes were wide in surprise, but then he settled into a warm smile. "Happy Birthday."

He hopped and flipped, landing on all fours on the ceiling. She noted his graceful execution. He made it seem about as easy as walking down the street. A pang of jealousy passed through her. She missed walking on walls. He looked down at her and asked, "You're going dressed like that?"

She glanced down at herself, she was wearing a band tee under an unbuttoned orange flannel, a pair of jeans with a rip in the right knee, and a white pair of slip-ons with little orange toads printed all over them. She thought she looked fine. Cute, even. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

He extracted his mask and slipped it on. It was red with a black web patterned across it and sported large, white lenses in a black frame that seemed to function like a camera aperture, widening and narrowing in accordance with what she guessed were his own eyes under the mask. "Well, you know, to keep your identity a secret?"

She shrugged in response and slipped her shades back on. "Ta-da! Identity concealed."

"Ha ha, very funny," he deadpanned. "Now leave, will ya? I gotta get changed."

"All right, all right." She left his room and waited against the wall across from the door. When he emerged he was wearing a long-sleeved tee and the same jeans she'd just seen him in. He had a backpack hanging off his shoulder. She raised a brow and he responded by pulling down the neck of his shirt, exposing red spandex with a web pattern.

He led the way downstairs. The wall was littered with framed pictures of the Parker family over the years. She looked at one that was recent. A small '2013' was scrawled in the corner and almost out of frame. It was Peter, one year ago, a few inches shorter, and wearing thick glasses. A middle-aged man was there with him, hand on his shoulder and beaming at the camera. She looked from the young and scrawny Peter to the one walking down the stairs, taller, muscular, and graceful as a cat. It was clear he'd gained these powers in the last year or so. She filed that bit of information away as interesting.

When they reached the door, he shouted to his aunt, who was having tea in the dining room with Naruko's mother, "May, we're going out! Be back later."

"Don't stay out too late, Peter. School starts tomorrow," she responded.

"The same goes for you, Naruko," her mother chimed in.

* * *

They took the subway into Manhattan. Peter figured there was less of a chance anyone would recognize her there, even though she kept reminding him that nobody would recognize her anywhere. She and her mother had lived in New York for all of a week. The Parkers were the only people Naruko knew. But Peter was careful about his identity, he worried for his aunt's safety and wouldn't jeopardize it. She could understand that at least.

The first stop—a requirement, according to Peter—was a hotdog stand. Then they posted up on top of a building, Peter in costume (he'd put the rest of his clothes in the backpack), sans mask. It was a pretty idyllic afternoon, sunny and temperate in early September.

"I thought Spider-Man's modus operandi was swinging around the city, looking for crime?" she asked around a bite of her hotdog.

"You know a lot about Spider-Man? Are you my biggest fan?" he teased.

"I've seen some videos, read a few articles. So?"

Peter shrugged as finished his own dog, swallowing down the last bite while retrieving a camera from his bag. Naruko didn't know anything about cameras but this one seemed like something a professional might own.

"Usually yeah, I swing around. But I'm pretty low on web fluid. Hoping to get some good shots today, sell 'em to the Bugle, re-up on supplies, do little home chemistry, bada-bing, bada-boom, more webs. Nobody ever tells you how expensive this whole vigilante business is. But what're you gonna do?"

"Exactly, what _are_ we gonna do? I'm all for loitering on rooftops, but it's not much of a patrol."

Peter picked up his mask and turned it inside out, exposing the inner workings. The lenses were attached to some kind of circuitry that she couldn't make heads or tails of and there was an earbud connected to that circuitry by a thin wire.

"This," he motioned to the electronics, "connects to my phone," he pulled the phone from a pocket that closed with a zipper and was otherwise fairly hard to see, "and my phone runs an app of my own design that taps into the police's radio frequencies."

Naruko let out a low whistle, impressed with the whole setup. "And here I am thinking you're just an idealistic kid. You're like a genius, huh?"

He shrugged and pulled the mask over his head. "First of all, we're the same age, _kid. _And B, if you weren't just like me you wouldn't have saved May this morning."

"Fair enough." She tossed the last of her hotdog bun to a trio of pigeons that were hanging around. They promptly tore it apart. "So, any activity on the radio?"

"Robbery down the street," was all he said before jumping off the building.

"Well alright, then," Naruko said to no one. She picked up Peter's backpack and camera, which he'd left in an effort to make a cool exit, and followed, jumping to the next building and following his progress from above.

The afternoon was spent that way. Spider-Man stopped a few muggings, maybe the odd bodega hold up, and Naruko watched and took pictures. Peter seemed to have narrowed beating on average thugs down to a science. He knew just the amount of force needed to put them down without drawing blood. She didn't know if he was weaker than her or more practiced, but she couldn't seem to punch a normal person without breaking a bone at the very least. He dodged around more gracefully than a ballerina, knowing where the danger was at all times, keeping civilians out of harm's way. He was really good at this. She was impressed.

And so it went, past sunset and into the night. It seemed like it would be a pretty low-stakes afternoon, but they were wrapping up and getting ready to pack it in for the night when something of more interest happened.

They were on a rooftop in East Harlem. The sun was on its way down, resting on the horizon and casting orange twilight over the city. Naruko was handing Peter his things.

"I wonder if this is what it's like to have a butler? Do I have to pay you if this becomes a regular thing?" he joked as he accepted his belongings.

"I'll throw you off this roof. I swear I'll do it." She shoved his shoulder and he stumbled back a few steps.

"Don't threaten me with a good ti—" The banter stopped suddenly and Peter put his fingers to his ear over the mask. Naruko raised a brow in askance. "Eddie Brock just broke out of Ryker's," he said with what Naruko thought was undue gravitas.

"I don't know who or what that is." Naruko deadpanned.

Peter was tapping away at his phone screen and then flipped it up to show her. It was a surprisingly clear image of a... she wouldn't call it a man, really. It was hard to tell from the image, but she got the impression it was large, covered in what looked like a cross between goo and flesh, and rippling with muscle. A large white spider stretched across its chest and its maw was opened wide, seemingly roaring at whoever had taken the photo. Its teeth were long and jagged, its tongue long and thick and dripping green saliva.

"This is Eddie Brock. Venom. And Ryker's is a prison." He put his phone away, seemingly listening to the radio in his ear for more information. "They say he jumped into the river minutes ago, heading west. How'd he get the symbiote back? Not good, not good."

"So? Which direction are we going?" Naruko asked and was surprised to hear excitement in her own voice. Something was compelling her to find this thing. She didn't know if it was just the warrior spirit in her rousing at the prospect of a good fight, but she wanted to find it. Was compelled to.

"Venom's really dangerous." He almost sounded scared, hesitant for sure. "I barely beat him last time. I don't have any sonics, either..." He was muttering to himself. Naruko wasn't having it.

"Oh, don't blush now. Besides you've got me with you." She curled her hands into fists and punched them together, creating a burst of electricity that continued to arc between the knuckles of her fists for a moment when she pulled them apart.

"Yeah. _Yeah_. Okay. Electricity's good." He was sounding more confident now. He quickly ran over to the edge of the building, securing his bag to the rooftop as he went. "It's a symbiote, kind of like a living suit. That's where he gets his power. Get that away from him and Eddie's just a man. It's strong and versatile, but it's got two weaknesses. Sonics—no luck on that—and heat. Electricity's pretty hot, so you bring the heat, and bring it hard. We'll run east across the rooftops, I wanna save the webbing. He's not exactly subtle so we'll run into him sooner or later. Let's just hope he doesn't decide to lay low in the sewers." And they were off.

When they found Venom, he was running across the soccer field at Thomas Jefferson Park. Naruko was right, he was big. At least seven feet tall, probably more. Its mouth stretched into a sinister grin when it saw Spider-Man.

"**Ohhh, Peterrr. You were too quick to find usss. We miss you, too, but we wanted our reunion to be special,"** he said. His voice was deep, but Naruko found him silly despite that. Rather than being intimidating, the way he said Peter's name and his voice dripping with fake longing made him seem like something of a its gaze turned to her.

"**This your girlfriend, Peterrr? You won't mind if we play with her, will you?" **Venom's tongue slithered out of his mouth and licked his own head and eye (or the white patch of its flesh that seemed to be its eye). Now he was just creep, but that didn't matter. She was compelled, drawn to him. She hadn't felt such a calling for violence since before her new life, since before retiring from the position of Hokage. Something inside her needed this fight. A grin spread across her face and she walked past Peter. Whatever this calling was, she wouldn't deny it.

"**Ohhh, she wants to play with us, Peterrr." **It almost purred his name. **"Don't worry. We'll take good care of—" **There was a crack of thunder as a bolt red lightning cut him off. He screeched, high and ghastly, and was thrown back a few feet and landed on his back. Naruko could see the black flesh, the symbiote, writhe and wriggle as the patch on its chest that had been struck steamed. She didn't allow a reprieve. Violence was calling her, the fight awaited.

She crossed the distance at a sprint, lightning arcing off her fists. Venom, as though sensing the impending danger, was on his feet quickly, but only met an electrically charged fist to the face for his trouble. The symbiote boiled and steamed from where the electricity that writhed over her fist had imparted its heat. A thunderclap accompanied the blow.

Venom tried to backtrack, but Naruko followed step for step. She kicked his knee with a charged foot and the symbiote boiled there. A two punch combo in the chest and the thing was melting.

Storm clouds gathered above, flashing red with her own brand of lightning and thundering with menace. Each rumble of the heavens matched a blow she landed on symbiote. Peter watched in shock and awe as she brought the shock and awe.

The symbiote sloughed off of Eddie Brock and fell into inert black puddles that traced their progress across the grass. Venom retreated in the face of a vicious and wholly unexpected assault.

He tried in vain to block, but even if she hadn't been as quick as the lightning she slung about so easily, his defense would have melted beneath her onslaught. In a matter of moments, all that was left was Eddie Brock, quite naked and alone, the symbiote having retreated inside of his body. He was tall and muscle-bound, but, as Peter had said, just a man without his suit. And, just like that, the call was gone. This was no worthy opponent, just a man reduced to begging.

"Please, you're killing it. Please. Just stop... You win. Just don't kill it. Please." Eddie prostrated himself before her. Naruko sighed and dropped her hands to her side. The storm clouds dissipated just as quickly as they had formed. She wanted no part of _this_. Whatever violent frenzy had taken hold of her, it was well and truly gone now. She looked back at Peter, who was still in his initial position, shocked at what had just happened. He snapped out of it and ran over.

"I... I was expecting way more trouble than that if I'm being honest," was the first thing he said. "Maybe I should carry your things from now on. Jeez." He set about webbing Eddie up.

Movement at the corner of her vision caught Naruko's attention. Her gaze landed on one of the inert puddles of presumably-dead symbiote matter. She walked over to it and examined it closely.

It was inky black and didn't seem to reflect light. She felt the urge to poke it and her finger was an inch or so from actually doing it before the puddle came to life, roiling with a mind of its own. Her hand lit once more with electricity and the symbiote recoiled. It collected itself into a small black ball, about the size of a tennis ball, and on its surface appeared something that drew a gasp from Naruko. Nine red magatama all lined up perfectly at the ball's equator.

She didn't allow herself to hope. Wouldn't dare. But she was compelled to grab it. That same feeling that had called for her to put a savage beating on Venom now wanted nothing more but for her to reach out and take this thing. And she did.

Her hand closed on it and it slithered up her sleeve and out of sight. There was a fullness now, somewhere in her core. A space inside of her that had been empty for seventeen years and nine months was full and it felt better than anything she'd felt in years. She grinned when she heard the voice.

"**Hey, partner."**


	3. Chapter 3

When Naruko got home, her mother was still up and watching the evening news over a cup of tea. Naruko walked over and sat on the couch next to her.

"What did you two do?" she asked while turning a leery eye on her daughter.

Naruko laughed at the look on her face. "We went into the city, had a hotdog. Normal stuff." Her mom's look didn't relent. "You know, if anything, it's not me and boys you should be worrying about."

Aiko snorted in a decidedly unladylike manner and placed her tea on the coffee table. "No, I suppose you're right. Come here." She reached out and pulled Naruko's head into her lap.

"_**Mama's girl," **_Kurama's voice rumbled in her mind. Naruko could only smile and revel in it.

_"Yeah, guess I am," _she thought back as her mother's tattooed fingers undid her long braid. The fingers running through her hair sent shivers down Naruko's spine. Naruko traced her own fingers over the koi tattoo that peeked out from under her mom's skirt and over her left knee. They sat that way for a few minutes, watching the news in silence. Naruko was half-asleep when her mom spoke.

"Is that you, Naruko?"

"Whazzat?" She was pulled out of her sleepiness and noticed the images on the screen. Blurry video of a woman throwing red lightning in the park, laying a merciless beating on a creature much larger than herself.

"Could be anyone." Naruko turned and grinned into her mother's thigh. She responded with a sharp tug on a lock of Naruko's hair.

"Naruko," she spoke sharply and Naruko turned over to look her in the eyes. Aiko was worrying her lip and her brow was furrowed.

"Yeah, that's me," Naruko relented. "I couldn't help myself." That was true enough, the call—whatever that had been—was strong. "I'm not the type to sit idly by. Neither are you." The 'neither was dad' remained unspoken. Aiko Sato had been something of a vigilante during her youth in Japan. She'd been wild child (the tattoos all over her body were testament to that fact) and stuck her nose into dangerous situations often. She'd fallen out of the habit during university, but she was, in the end, a righteous soul. Naruko couldn't read her look and she watched her mom's face as her mom watched hers. The staring match was broken when her mom smiled softly and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.

"Be careful. And keep your grades up. And, if you really must do this, wear a mask, please."

"Oh? I expected you to read me the riot act, at least."

"You've always been headstrong. If I forbid you, you'll do it anyway. The cost of raising an unruly child, my mother would say. If it affects your grades, however, that's the end of it." She gave Naruko her best stern look, but there was levity beneath it, Naruko knew.

Naruko grabbed her mom's hand and placed a kiss on her palm. "Okay."

"On that note, go to bed. School tomorrow." Aiko nudged Naruko and, her legs freed, got up and set to clearing away her teacup and teapot.

"Yeah, yeah," Naruko muttered, but the corners of her mouth pricked up despite the put-upon tone of her voice.

In her room, Kurama's first comment was: _**"Your hair is too long."**_

Naruko looked at it in the mirror. At its longest it reached past her butt and to the tops her thighs, it was wavy and, if she was honest, it _was_ too long. It required a ridiculous amount of upkeep, got in her eyes, and it was hot in the summer. But...

"It reminds me of Kushina," she said aloud, speaking in a low voice. She didn't want to forget them—her first parents—even if she never got to really know them like she knew the new ones. And even if her new father was gone (had left, or been killed, or whatever) she didn't want to let any of them go.

"**Fair enough,"** he said, this time from right next to her head, speaking from a red fox head at the end of a black tendril that snaked out from underneath her clothing. **"Let me show you something. Get naked."**

"Pervert," she replied, but did as he asked anyway.

"Well?" she asked when she was completely nude.

That black material, somewhere between solid and liquid that she'd come to recognize as distinctly symbiote, began to spread across her skin.

* * *

Director Nick Fury was intrigued, to say the least. He was sitting in his office at the Triskelion, surrounded by screens looping playback of a superpowered dust-up that had taken place the night before in Thomas Jefferson Park. Every screen showed a different angle, all taken from a different source, mostly choppy and low quality cell phone footage. He watched as escaped convict Eddie Brock was ruthlessly apprehended by a woman whose identity had been confirmed as Naruko Thorsdóttir.

It hadn't been hard to identify her. Her mother had finagled their EB-3 visas through her employer (a fairly influential music label). That was fairly normal, but all _mutants_ applying for any kind of permanent residency status needed to declare their status and abilities. These declarations were filed with the federal government. Some mutants tried to game the system; they figured if they appeared normal on the surface, no one would be the wiser. Many succeeded. Thorsdóttir and her mother had made no such attempt. He looked at their pictures in their files from the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services. There was no hiding those eyes.

It was well within the scope of their day to day operations to investigate superpowered incidents at SHIELD. They had to keep tabs on these people. A routine cross-reference between the electrical and weather anomalies displayed during the battle and the Department of Homeland Security database of registered mutants had revealed her.

Fury smirked as his eye perused her file, landing on a still image of her hand coated in electricity. She'd under reported the scale of her power. Made a sworn statement that it was small-scale, "like a taser," she said. Now there was video evidence that it was _much_ more than that. It was a crime that he could use as leverage, to be sure, but Fury happened to think the soft sell made a better first impression.

He took her USCIS file and added it to a pile in a bin labeled 'Initiative A-1'.

* * *

Naruko next saw Peter outside her door, bright and early the next day.

"Aunt May said I should walk you to school, so..." He bounced one fist on top of the other in what she recognized as a nervous action. She squinted her eyes at him for a moment, just to make him squirm. She got her entertainment value where she could, and teenage boys were ripe for the picking. It was like being a kage in front of nervous genin, and Naruto Uzumaki had had fun at the expense of many genin teams over the years.

"Okay." She let him off the hook and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"_**He likes you,"**_Kurama chimed in through whatever psychic connection symbiotes made with their hosts.

"_He's shit out of luck if he does." _Making boys nervous was fun, but actually being romantic with one was out of the question.

She walked off the doorstep and passed Peter, heading in the direction of her new school. He scrambled to catch up and they settled into a more moderate pace.

"Cool shoes," said Peter, casting about for a topic of conversation. Kurama had, in his capacity as a symbiote and dying to show off his abilities, transformed into clothes for her to wear. He liked a darker aesthetic and Naruko was loath to tell him what to do when it came to something so trivial. Her shoes were similar to the ones from the day before, except for black and covered in little orange fox faces.

"Yep." She changed topics immediately to something less mundane. "Say, what's the story with that symbiote from yesterday? It seemed like you three had some history."

Peter's eyebrows shot up and then he jerked his head around trying to catch out any stray listeners. Other than a few kids scattered around and walking in the same direction they were, there was no one of interest around. She took the opportunity when he was inattentive to have Kurama produce a pair of shades in her hand and slipped them on her face.

"No one's listening. And stop being so suspicious. A good spy makes a sweep look casual." She demonstrated. "Don't give yourself whiplash, just look around like you're taking in the scenery. So?" She dropped her voice minutely and stage whispered, "the symbiote?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess it starts with the Fantastic Four. No, Eddie came first, uh... Okay, so when I first took up the webs everyone thought it was great. I mean, not the police, or the mayor, or the criminals... but everyone else loved it I guess. Except J. Jonah Jameson—that's the editor-in-chief at the Bugle. They run hit pieces on Spider-Man and I guess Jameson considers it a slow day if he doesn't have something negative to say about me. That's why they buy so many pics... Uh, yeah, anyway. Eddie was a reporter for the Bugle. Long story short, he tried to unmask me. Ended up unmasking a copycat, just some guy from Brooklyn, thought it might be fun to do a little vigilante work. Was a pretty skilled martial-artist, too. Anyway, it turns out that criminals aren't very big fans of my work, and I was doing a lot to disrupt the Kingpin's operations at the time. He's a big time organized crime—"

"This is the short version?"

"Yeah, okay. Well the Kingpin's guys came to this copycat's place and murdered him. Once that came out, Jameson left Brock out in the cold. His career was over in an instant. I guess he blamed me for that." He took a breath before continuing. "Right. So, like six months ago I went into space with the Fantastic Four. It was awesome. I mean Reed Richards is such a genius. Man, I could've listened to him talk about astrophysics for hours. Neil deGrasse Tyson, eat your heart out." He cleared his throat at Naruko's raised brow. "So, yeah, we went into space, something about Dr. Doom trying to mine some alien material on an asteroid to create a new weapon. Turned out to be a giant ruse. However, on that asteroid I found the symbiote.

"At first it was fine, just turned itself into a cool new suit, made me stronger, provided organic webbing. And then I was exhausted all the time. I was having mood-swings, getting more violent. Dr. Richards said it was the suit. Turns out it was taking my body out for nighttime joyrides, manipulating my body chemistry, making me more likely to get into fights. It was feeding on my emotions and creating a more perfect host while doing so. So, I got rid of it. It must have found Eddie soon after. They both hated me, it was a match made in heaven. Or hell, I guess."

By now they were walking up to an unfamiliar house a few streets away from their own. Peter knocked on the door and said, "don't worry, he knows."

A boy, roughly their age, answered the door. He was asian, close to Peter's height, perhaps a little shorter, and overweight. The two boys did an elaborate handshake before Peter introduced her.

"This is Ned. Ned, this is Naruko." They shook hands—his was rather clammy—and were on their way once more.

Naruko figured if Ned knew, it was fine to continue their conversation. "So did it ever talk to you?"

"What're we talking about?" asked Ned.

"Venom. We fought him last night," answered Peter before addressing her again. "No, never talked to me. Must have talked to Eddie though, blew my secret identity and all."

"Woah, woah, woah!" Ned interrupted. "'We'? As in you both fought him? The news only had some blurry footage of some blonde lady—" he looked at her hair and his eyebrows shot up in realization. "_You're_ that human lightning storm. Oh, man this is awesome!" He snatched up her hand and started shaking it again with much fervor. "It's an honor to meet you." He gasped. "Are you going to school with us?"

The conversation effectively derailed, she entertained Ned's questions until they got to school.

* * *

School was dull in any life. Naruko maintained impeccable grades for her mother (it turned out parents really cared about that sort of thing), but school didn't hold her interest beyond that. Some kids had been very interested in the new student, but teenagers had short attention spans. The air of mystery her sunglasses lent her had been explained away as a medical necessity and soon enough she was just a normal student. Her day _really_ begun after school.

She was on a rooftop in Jackson Heights with Peter. They spent a lot of time on rooftops, she thought. He was suited up and ready to go. She just had one thing she needed to talk to him about first. She always thought it was best to just rip the bandaid off.

Peter turned and where once had been her school-clothes she was now clad in the suit provided by Kurama. It was mostly black. The mask went up to her hairline and her hair framed her face, the excess hair pulled into a long braid that ran to the small of her back, as was her usual style. The eyes were two red patches, similar in shape to Spider-Man's own lenses. Nine red magatama traced her collar bone, trailed over her shoulders and completed the circle just below the back of her neck. Red detailing reminiscent of the Naruto's first nine tails chakra mode spread across her body. The fingers of the suit were also red and pointed at the tips, creating a sort of fingerless glove effect. Naruko thought the whole getup looked pretty slick, if a little edgy.

Peter, having caught the tail end of the transformation, was apparently so severely surprised that he fired a wad of webbing at her while backflipping across the rooftop and landing on the ledge in a crouch.

Naruko caught the wad in her left hand and the whole thing was immediately enveloped. The mask retracted away from her face and she looked at Peter, plain annoyance written on her face. She charged the hand with electricity and the webbing melted away.

"_**An excitable monkey, isn't he?"**_

"Could you not? Please?"

"You're wearing that _thing_?! After what I told you? You _know _what it tried to do to me, what it _did _ Eddie!"

"Take the drama down like ten notches there, Pete," she spoke casually while approaching him slowly, hands by her side in as unthreatening a posture as she could manage. "This is a different symbiote. I trust him."

"Him?"

"Yeah. Say hi, Kurama." A black tendril grew out of her suit at the shoulder and, at the end, took the shape of a fox head.

"**Monkey,"** Kurama said by way of greeting. The fox head nodded and receded into the suit once more.

"What the hell?" asked Peter in a surprised whisper.

"He was born yesterday. When I was beating the tar out of Venom, he was... spawned, I guess. Kurama's good people. Promise." She crossed her heart with her index finger.

"It's not a person! And how can you even know that?" He was pacing along the ledge now, trying to come to terms with it.

"Just a hunch. Just like I know you're a good person." She couldn't very well tell him the truth. That she and Kurama had spent well over a hundred years together in another life. "Not all symbiotes are the same, Peter. You're being kind of racist right now, if I'm being honest." She joked to defuse the situation. Peter stepped off the ledge and crossed his arms petulantly.

Naruko was reminded of how young he really was. She walked over, took his mask off his head, and put her hands on his shoulders. He couldn't help but meet her eyes.

"We're friends. Right, Peter?"

"Yeah."

"Friends trust each other. Trust me when I tell you Kurama isn't like the other symbiote and I'm not like Venom. It'll be fine."

"It's just I don't think you know just how—"

"Peter!" She cut him off. "I'm a big girl. The only one who knows what's best for me is me. And my mom. But mostly me. Have some faith, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

Naruko flashed him a beatific grin, all teeth and squinted eyes. She backed away from him, tossing him back his mask as she did.

"And check this out." She pointed her fist at his foot and a strand of webbing shot out of the back. It adhered to his left foot and she yanked it. He caught himself like she knew he would, going with the momentum, doing a full backflip and landing on his feet once more.

"What the what?" He pointed an accusatory finger. "You're infringing on my copyright!" _There _he was.

"Yeah? Go ahead and file suit, let's see how far you get." They were both grinning now. "Wanna teach me how to web-swing?"

"What's to teach? Just jump and go!" He leaped off the building and Naruko followed suit.

It was exhilarating. Not quite flying, but there was a challenge inherent to this form of travel that made it fun just trying to go faster, or higher, or lower. Every movement was calculated in the moment and she could lose herself in the swinging more readily than her early morning running. She was in love at first swing.

Of course, Peter was an expert. He was graceful in the air and she strove to emulate him.

They wound their way across Queens, under the Queensboro Bridge and into the buzzing hive of activity that was Midtown. The buildings were massive here and they could really let loose. They whooped and hollered, launching themselves higher and faster, entering steep dives and pulling out at the last second, for nothing more than the feel of the wind whipping across their bodies and the adrenaline in their veins.

* * *

"**No. A coincidence of this magnitude... that would be ridiculous. And we would be stupid to belive it." **Kurama liked to speak out loud when he could. She guessed he liked the idea of having a body with more autonomy than their previous condition as jinchuriki allowed.

Naruko nodded in agreement at the symbiote-fox head that she'd come to associate with Kurama's new appearance. They were currently stuck to the side of a skyscraper, next to a giant Stark Industries logo, near the very top of the building. Peter had gone home an hour before, but Naruko wasn't quite ready to call it a night.

"That was my first thought, too. Not like it's easy to investigate a god or god-like being. There's really nowhere to start. Not like there's any money to follow, and however our existence benefits whatever did this, it's not exactly obvious. We can assume the kind of thing that has this kind of power and reach, it won't be obvious how our actions help it."

"**There**_** is**_** something in my genetic memory. My... progenitor was corrupted somehow, but there remains an impression. A fear. I can't help but feel it. We are not of this Earth, I know that, my progenitor knows that. Something, someone, cast the die. Perhaps inflicted us upon this universe. The genealogy, the memory is too corrupted. Trauma, hatred, isolation; I would guess that these factors corrupted my progenitor beyond recognition. But the fear remains—visceral, raw. Fear of our creator? Of our destroyer? I do not know."**

"You think it was this fearsome being that brought us here? Could it command such power?"

"**Whether it was capable of doing so, I don't know. However, I'd hazard a guess that the reasoning is exactly the opposite. A being that inspires so much fear coupled with our history... I think it's fair to say that we would inevitably oppose such a force. And if that's true, we'd do well to search for our benefactor in god-like beings that sit on the opposite side of the scale. I'm inclined to assume, however, that such a being is not given to acting so overtly to oppose its enemies. Given these assumptions, I assume you can come up with a plan."**

"The plan is not to have a plan, I guess." She shrugged. "We do what we do. Wait for the bigger picture to reveal itself."

Kurama bobbed his pseudo-head up and down, in a gesture that she guessed was the equivalent of a shrug, and retracted the head and tendril into the suit once more. Whatever their current circumstances, the situation didn't merit much more speculation. They'd hit a brick wall that would only be circumvented by the revelation of more evidence. So they would wait for more evidence to become available.

She gathered herself up to leave, standing horizontal against the skyscraper wall, when something caught her eye. A person crossing the rooftop of the next building over. The signage identified it as the Roxxon Energy Corporation building. It was a company with a bad reputation and enough money thrive despite that reputation. The building was a few stories shorter than the Stark building and created a perfect vantage point for Naruko to watch as a woman clad in a black bodysuit crossed the rooftop towards a rooftop access door of the Roxxon building.

"Huh. Someone's up to no good."

Naruko jumped from the side of the building, crossing the distance easily. She walked up behind the woman, silent as the grave. She watched her for a moment, the woman oblivious to her presence as she knelt in front of the door handle, working at the lock and idly humming a tune. Her hair was white and long, the bodysuit shiny black leather with white tufts of what looked like fur at her forearms and calves, and she had a tremendous figure. Naruko grinned under her mask and leaned forward until she was right by the woman's ear.

"What'cha doin'?" she asked in her best curious child voice, which wasn't very convincing given the rather husky texture of her voice.

Despite her yelp, the woman dropped to her hands and tried to sweep Naruko's legs from under her. Her leg impacted Naruko's and stopped immediately. Naruko was too heavy and too strong to just be swept off her feet by what looked to be a normal woman, albeit one in as great a shape as this one.

"Don't do that," she said. The woman's green eyes widened behind her domino mask and her bright red lips parted as her mouth fell slack. She shut it with a click and stood up, crossing her arms under her breasts, accentuated as they were by the low cut collar of her suit. Naruko couldn't help but glance, not that her mask gave anything away.

"And who are you supposed to be?" the woman asked while casting an appraising eye at Naruko.

"I could ask you the same question," Naruko retorted while tilting her head slightly. It was a move that, when combined with the impassive look her mask gave her, was oddly disarming.

"You can call me Black Cat." A smirk came to the woman's lips easily.

"You break into office buildings often, Cat? Can't be very lucrative, can it?"

Cat's stance shifted, she leaned slightly forward while putting her hands behind her back. Naruko was half-certain she was working the lock while trying to keep her distracted.

"Well, you never know what a cat will get into. We're just so curious. Now come on, I told you my name. How about some reciprocity?"

Naruko realized in that moment that she'd never come up with any kind of alias. That was easily remedied.

"Well, if we're on fake-name terms, I guess you can call me, uh, Nine." Naruko head the telltale click of an open lock. "Are you about done with that lock?" Naruko nodded at the door. Black Cat had the sense to look sheepish as she pushed the door open behind her.

"Busted. You gonna take me to jail?"

Naruko shrugged. "Are you a terrorist or something?"

"What? No!"

"Are you going to kill anyone? Hurt anyone?"

"Kill? No. Hurt? Well, depends on how much the CEO values his corporate secrets." A grin was growing on Black Cat's face as they continued their back and forth.

"Cameras?"

"Looped."

"Security measures?"

"Disabled." She was smiling in earnest self-satisfaction now.

"Well, lead the way. Let's have a look at these secrets." Naruko motioned her onwards. Cat's eyes widened in surprise once more.

"Really? Aren't you hero types all about justice or whatever? _Are_ you a hero type?"

"I'm just me. And Roxxon has a reputation for illegal dumping and doing just a ton of unsavory stuff. I figure it's not my job to protect the interests of giant evil corporations. As long as you're not physically hurting anyone, you're fine in my book."

"Fair enough." Black Cat turned to enter the doorway.

"But," Black Cat stopped, "You try to hurt anyone that doesn't deserve it, I'll be a lot less friendly."

Black Cat turned back and smiled. "Sure thing. We're all friends here," she said as she backed into the darkness beyond the doorway. Naruko imagined that move was a lot more impressive when the other party couldn't see in the dark as well as she could. Past the doorway was a set of stairs and Naruko followed the Cat down them.

She would have loved to say that she was watchful as a hawk, watching the thief's every minute action, but she was a teenager—regardless of mental age—and hormones were just a thing a teenager had to deal with. Her eyes were glued to the sway of Black Cat's hips for longer than she would've liked.

Naruko peeled her eyes from the appealing sight one floor down. They exited into a spacious hallway. An elevator bank sat to their left, a grand desk—probably occupied by an executive assistant during working hours—on their right. Behind the desk was a door. 'D. Agger, CEO' was stencilled on the surface in ostentatious golden lettering. Cat made a beeline towards it, Naruko hot on her heels.

The office was decorated in the cliché powerful businessman chic; an expansive desk housing one monitor, a desk calendar, a rolodex that Naruko imagined was just for show, and a comfortable looking leather chair. The wall behind the desk was one massive window with a hell of a view of the avenue below. Framed pictures covered the other walls, one man appeared in all of them, always accompanied by some important person or other. Agger himself was rather unimpressive. He was of average height and build, always wore an expensive tailored suit and blacked out sunglasses. His short black hair was perfectly coiffed in each picture and paired with an insincere smile. She instinctively didn't like the man.

Cat set her sights on the computer immediately and started tapping the prosthetic claws at the ends of her gloves away at the keyboard while Naruko gazed through the window at the tiny people and cars going about their business down below. Naruko turned back when she heard those same claws digging furrows into the wooden desk. She looked over Cat's shoulder at the images on screen.

There were people in prison jumpsuits, all strapped to chairs, ominous liquids in unmarked bags being fed into them intravenously. As Cat clicked through the images they moved forward in time. The people reacted to their treatments in different ways. Some, as time passed, looked healthier than ever, rippling with muscles, shining with vitality. Perfect pictures of healthy human beings. These numbered very few. The others, the majority, seemed to deteriorate. They lost weight, their skin developed an unhealthy sallow pallor, the worst ones developed weeping sores on their skin.

One man in the latter group stood out. Not because his condition was remarkable amongst the sick and dying. It was his hair. From the beginning, even when he was healthy, his hair was a stark white. He wasn't old, barely middle-aged if she was guessing correctly. And there was the prick of familiarity when she looked at his nose and jawline. She looked at Cat and then back at the man labeled Walter Hardy in the pictures. That was the thing about domino masks, they were shit for actually hiding your features. It wasn't hard to make the connection. A relative. Black Cat's father, most likely, given their close resemblance. She didn't say anything and just watched as Cat printed the files and images. She stuffed them into a manilla envelope that she dug out from inside the desk. Then she set to ruining the office.

She tore the framed pictures from the walls, put a crack in the window with the desk chair, flung the computer and monitor across the room. Her ragged breathing was the only sound in the room by the end of it. She began to walk out without a word. Naruko, wanted to show some... she didn't know. Solidarity, perhaps. Naruko gripped the bottom edge of the massive desk with one hand. It nearly splintered in her grip. With a quick jerk upwards, the desk flipped. It spun three times in the air and landed upside down with a tremendous crash, all of its contents scattered across the office by the momentum of the spin. Cat didn't comment, but Naruko thought her jaw had a certain set of satisfaction to it.

They exited the office and the building quickly. Naruko was sure the noise would attract some sleepy security guard sooner or later.

They finally spoke again on the rooftop.

"Did he die?" Naruko asked, referring to Walter Hardy.

"I don't know who you're talking about." Black Cat tried to affect a breezy tone, but wouldn't turn to face her.

"Walter Hardy."

"That's none of your business," she snarled out. She'd abandoned all of her seductive charm and her shoulders were tense.

"Fair." Naruko walked up behind her and placed her hand on her shoulder. "I won't presume to tell you what to do. Just know, if it's revenge you're after... it's best to keep it simple. Small. Kill the guy if you have to, but leave it at that. If you don't it'll spiral. Once you're in that spiral... well, it's best not to dwell on it."

Black Cat didn't answer except to rip herself out of Naruko's grasp. She sprinted to the edge of the roof, manila envelope clutched to her body. She jumped and was gone.

If Agger turned up dead some time later, Naruko guessed she would have a good idea of who had done it.


	4. Chapter 4

Naruko had fought a shark man and a rabbit goddess in the previous life, but this one just seemed cartoonish. A hulking man in a high tech rhino suit, rampaging through rush hour traffic. A comparatively tiny duffel bag full of money was strapped across his back, spilling bills in a silly trail as he muscled his way through a sea of cars. Spider-Man and Nine, dynamic duo extraordinaire, chased after him, slowed down by the need to rescue civilians from their mangled vehicles.

"So, who is this guy?" she called as she ripped the door off of a minivan that had been wedged up against a box truck, allowing its passengers to scamper off to some safer locale.

"The Rhino," called Spider-Man as he lifted a Prius off of what had once been a beautiful muscle car.

"Clearly," Nine deadpanned. She chucked the van door like a discus at the Rhino. It struck him on the back and tore the strap of the duffle. It fell to the street behind him. He hardly seemed to notice.

It was getting annoying. The Rhino had taken to throwing vehicles—passengers and all—at his pursuers. Spider-Man caught them skillfully. He weaved web nets large enough and strong enough to catch the flying cars in seconds. He had an instinct for it that Naruko just couldn't begin to match. Or maybe he was well-practiced. She didn't know to what extent his web-weaving was a product of his spider powers or his own ingenuity. Regardless, he saved civilians with a quick and steady hand while the ones that had yet to know the Rhino's wrath fled their vehicles ahead of him.

"Okay, that's enough. You cover the people. I'll stop him," she called over her shoulder as she swung ahead and upward. She positioned herself over the Rhino and, borrowing one of Peter's tricks, shot two web lines slightly in front of and to either side of the rampaging criminal. The webs adhered to the pavement and Naruko yanked with all her might, slingshotting herself downwards. Her feet collided with the Rhino's upper back and the force of the blow knocked him forward onto his face and chest. His horn cracked the pavement and his forward momentum caused him to slide, face first for a few feet before coming to a stop at the end of a six foot long furrow his horn had carved.

Naruko paused for a moment, perched on his back, thinking, rather optimistically, that she'd ended the fight in one hit. Then she felt him stir beneath her feet. She flipped away, landing a couple dozen feet in front of the Rhino as he came to his feet.

He made a show of cracking his knuckles as he said, "another little spider for me—"

"Not a spider," Naruko interrupted him. She grabbed the nearest empty vehicle—an empty yellow cab—and lifted it easily—it was awkward but not heavy. She caught his eyes widening as she pitched it directly at his face like a shot putter. It impacted and the front end of the vehicle crushed and deformed against the Rhino's upper torso. The villain roared in rage as he grabbed the mangled yellow mess that was once a cab and violently returned it to the sender.

Naruko dodged over the cab, flipping horizontally, and shot a web at the flying object as it passed below her. As soon as she landed on the pavement, she yanked on the web, stopping and reversing the cab's momentum and sending it sailing back over her own head and once more at the Rhino. Knowing that it wouldn't put him down, she held out her right hand towards the projectile, firing a black spike of hardened symbiote from the palm of her hand—Kurama's powers were so versatile. It pierced the cab's gas tank as it impacted the Rhino for the second time. A bolt of lightning sprang eagerly from her hand with a thunderclap, igniting the gasoline and causing an explosion that blew out the windows of all nearby vehicles.

She followed in the wake of the explosion, not wanting to give the Rhino a chance to regain his balance. She wreathed her hands with lightning as she struck the criminal with a series of punches on his abdomen. The high-tech suit was tough, ridiculously so. It seemed to insulate the Rhino from the worst of the electricity and her punches had little effect against whatever material this suit was made. Not dealing enough damage wasn't a problem she'd had in this life yet. A smirk crossed the Rhino's face—the only part of him not covered by the suit—when she backed off and considered her options.

"Let me show you how it's done, little girl." He took a few thundering steps forward while raising his hands above his head and interlacing his fingers. He was as dumb as he was strong apparently. She sidestepped to the left well before his fists tore up the patch of road she'd been occupying.

"Gee, mister, thanks for showing me," she quipped as she grabbed his horn which was close to the ground in the aftermath of his attack. She used her grip on his horn to both gain better leverage and keep his head down as she shot her knee into his exposed face. She heard his nose crunch as it broke and the Rhino reared back in pain, clutching at his bleeding face with his oversized hands.

"You bitch!" He blubbered past his hands. The words sounded different, a different timbre and taste. He'd switched to his native Russian.

"Don't worry. The bad lady will be gone soon enough," she said in a patronizing tone as clouds gathered overhead. She hopped back, putting at least thirty feet between them.

"I'm going to kill you!" He doubled over and put his hands to the ground in a passable mimicry of a starting stance.

"I'm sure you will," Naruko replied in a patronizing tone. "Now, quiet down and let's see if we can't get past that insulation, okay?"

"What?"

Naruko raised a hand to the sky, red electricity sparking wildly from it. Thunder rumbled in the sky and the clouds grew darker. "Hey. I've always wanted to do this. Humor me, okay?" She didn't wait for him to agree and her voice lowered an octave with mock gravitas when she spoke again. "Vanish with the, uh..." She put her other hand to her chin quizzically. "Shit what did he say?" she asked in her normal voice. She snapped out of it as Rhino took off and tried to close the distance. "Oh well. Sorry, Sasuke. I'm stealing your jutsu, but I don't remember your line. It's been such a long time since I heard the story. Eh." She brought her hand down before Rhino could cover even half the distance between them.

Some witnesses swore that they saw the head of a red dragon in the clouds before a massive bolt of red lightning swallowed the charging Rhino. It lingered for almost a full second, lighting up the New York street like a second sun. When the glow faded, the Rhino was left in a crater, singed, smoking, and unconscious. But still alive.

Spider-Man, apparently having made sure all civilians were taken care of, swung onto the scene and sprayed Rhino liberally with webbing while he was down. By the end of it she could only see his face past all the webbing.

"Holy crap! That was crazy!" he exclaimed. "And quick. Last time Rhino went on a rampage it took me hours to take him down. It was a whole thing. I'm sure you can imagine."

Naruko shrugged. She surveyed the street behind Rhino. It was torn up, cars were strewn all over, some hanging from webs, some on fire. He'd done a massive amount of damage in the half-mile he'd traveled from the scene of the initial bank robbery.

"I can imagine a lot of things. I no longer have to imagine what it looks like when you cover a giant rhino-man with your special goo—"

"Stop! Just—no." He shuddered and Naruko snickered.

"Oh-kay. But you know someone's going to make a porn parody."

* * *

She was watching it again. One week gone and Dario Agger hadn't turned up in the news except for reports on Roxxon stock continuing its steady rise in value under his watchful eye. According to some sources that kind of consistent rise in value year over year was suspicious on its own, but Naruko wasn't in the habit of investigating financial crimes. Instead she watched the Roxxon building.

Black Cat hadn't made her move. As emotional as the woman had been on their parting, Naruko had expected Cat to exact whatever revenge she had planned immediately. She doubted the thief would let her own father's death slide so easily. Not after seeing the photographic evidence of his suffering with her own eyes. The suffering of all those people. Convicted felons or not, they didn't deserve _that_. And, if Black Cat didn't do anything about Agger, it would fall to Naruko to extract some measure of justice for those people. She wasn't keen on killing a man that hadn't ever done anything to her personally, so justice at Naruko's hands would no doubt be more circuitous than what she thought Black Cat would do. So, she watched the building and prepared. She wasn't sure what she was preparing for, exactly, but that was the operating procedure. Gather information, paint a picture.

Naturally, the best perch was inside the giant 'A' in the signage of the Stark building. The counter-space of the 'A' created a nice little covered seat, free of any bird-droppings and sheltered from the high altitude gusts that were growing uncomfortable as the season pressed into Fall. So, there Naruko sat, tapping away at her phone, doing a little Facebook sleuthing between intermittent glances at the four armed guards—Agger had deemed it prudent to hire more security after the break-in—that seemed to take the words 'guard duty' to mean 'an eight hour smoke break'. She didn't think they would be much of a deterrent to a truly motivated individual, but the fight that would surely break out if any such individual showed would serve as a good alarm while Naruko dug for information on her phone.

It was obvious that a thief wouldn't do something so idiotic as maintain a social media presence, but she knew Black Cat had a family. Walter Hardy was dead, but a quick search of his name had turned up his obituary. He died two years earlier, 'survived by his wife, Lydia Hardy, and daughter'. No name, probably because she'd been underage at the time. And then there was Facebook. Old people put everything on there. Their names, their addresses, the names of their family members. Lydia Hardy's page was a gold mine. Naruko was willing to put money on the fact that Felicia Hardy was the Black Cat.

She was grinning at her own ingenuity. And then she heard a sort of dull roar, like the sound of rockets in a space movie. She looked up from her phone and there was Iron Man in all his red and gold glory, hovering a foot or so away. Her mask was off, of course. No one was going to see her on the side of a skyscraper, right? Her mask spread over her face again, but it was probably already too late.

"You keep setting off my al—uh, my employer's alarms. Are you planning a break in? Trying to steal Tony Stark's cutting edge, top of the line, pure genius tech?"

"Uh..." Was this guy serious? "Are you being serious right now?" she asked him. Her phone sunk into the symbiote and disappeared into whatever space Kurama had available to store small objects.

"What?"

"What?" she mocked him. "My, uh, employer's alarms!" she continued deepening her voice in a mockery of his and playing up the shitty teenager act in the hopes of keeping him on the back foot. "Who do you think you're fooling, Mr. Stark?"

"I'm... not very eloquent. I trip over my words a lot." The suit seemed to filter his speech and it came out sounding tinny and electronic, but he sounded like he was definitely gritting his teeth. She imagined it wasn't in his habit to admit any kind of personal flaw, even if he was lying about said flaw.

"Uh-huh. Must get hard at all those board meetings. Right?" She was just swinging wildly. Maybe he was Tony Stark, maybe he wasn't. As long as he didn't try to find out who _she _was.

"I'm _not_ Tony Stark. I think the more pertinent question is who you are and what you're doing on Mr. Stark's building. Wait. You're that lady with the electricity. Nine?"

"Sure am, Mr. Stark." She snickered at his weary sigh. "Not quite as famous as you thought, am I?"

He palmed his face—or mask—with a metallic clank. "Please, just... What are you doing here? What do you want?"

"You aware of your neighbor?" She pointed past him at the Roxxon building. The guards were all looking back at them. Iron Man was _not_ a very subtle person.

"Aware of what exactly? Dario Agger, CEO of Roxxon. Shady business practices, crap tech. It's not exactly against the law to be a stereotypically shitty person."

"I'm not overly familiar with the American legal system, but I'm almost certain that testing unproven and dangerous drugs on unwilling human subjects is pretty illegal."

"You have proof?" he asked.

"Friend of mine does. We're working on it." Or they would be when Naruko found Felicia. If she wanted to kill Agger, well Naruko could understand that, but if they could get Iron Man involved, they might find closure for more people than just Felicia Hardy.

"Is that friend of yours Spider-Man?" he asked. Naruko only shrugged.

"You want in?" Naruko asked.

"Bring me some solid evidence. Until then, stop loitering on Mr. Stark's building."

"Okay then, Mr. Stark! You know, you should stop referring to yourself in the third person. People will think you've got a giant head." She laughed as she jumped away.

He just sighed and started running her face through facial recognition.

* * *

Naruko caught up with the Black Cat the next night. She'd gotten lucky. Trailing Lydia Hardy paid off quickly. Naruko had followed Felicia Hardy from lunch with her mother, to an ESU dorm in Manhattan—perhaps the Black Cat used thievery to finance her education—and then to an art gallery downtown. Of course, the gallery was closed; they were on the rooftop, and Cat was in the middle of unlocking a panel in the skylight.

Naruko crept up behind her and said, "Hey, good-lookin'."

Cat's shoulders tensed for a moment, but she retorted, still working at the lock, "What's cookin'?" Naruko heard the click of the lock before the thief turned around, a small and unsure smile on her face. "We have to stop meeting like this. What will the public think? Spider-Man's new sidekick engaging in moonlit rendezvous with criminals."

"If anything, he's my sidekick." Naruko scoffed. "So, you've been checking up on me?"

She'd been at the costumed vigilante thing for barely over a week, but people ate that kind of thing up. They were always interested in up and coming heroes and Naruko was the new kid on the block. A few videos on YouTube of her and Spider-Man doing the ol' punch and kick on assorted small-time criminals as well as the big finish on the Rhino had made the rounds. enough for interested parties to take note.

"Oh, yes. I'm a very studious cat. And I knew you were a hero-type."

"I already told you, I'm just me." Naruko shrugged.

"And does "just you" have a problem with me burglarizing this art gallery?" Black Cat asked as she popped open the glass panel.

"I'd rather you didn't. We could just talk, forego the breaking and entering," said Naruko, stretching her shoulders and unintentionally thrusting out her chest.

Cat laughed. "You know the super suit is very flattering—"

"I'm blushing."

"—but that beauty as a weapon thing is my schtick. And I don't see what we've got to talk about. Unless you're gonna help me carry out a few paintings."

"We could talk about Dario Agger."

Cat's face went stony at that. "No. We can't."

"You know, I expected you to act quickly. You could have taken my advice, killed him, been done. Moved on."

"I'm working myself up to it." Cat's gaze was trained squarely at the rooftop.

"Revenge isn't something you work up to, Felicia."

Naruko winced behind her mask the moment the name came out of her mouth. Felicia's gaze jerked upward, surprised. It was obvious by the lack of any information regarding her alias anywhere online that Felicia Hardy took care to keep her identity under wraps. So much so that, even as a costumed thief with a somewhat flamboyant gimmick, she didn't leave calling cards or any evidence that could identify the Black Cat as the perpetrator of any of the many burglaries that took place in New York in any given year. She was on no radar that Naruko was aware of and might have remained that way for years if not for their chance meeting on the Roxxon building.

"Look, before you get all skittish—"

Felicia was marching towards Naruko with purpose. "Oh, I'm not skittish. I'm pissed off." Naruko saw the slap coming a mile off but she did nothing to stop it. There was a fleshy smack on her left cheek. Her hair was distrubed, but her head remained still as a statue.

"Ow! Jesus!" Felicia shook her hand as though she could shake the pain out, but she was undeterred in her anger. "What gives you the right? You used my father to-to... that's a shitty thing to do!"

"I know."

"Well as long as you know," she said sarcastically. "I guess it's all okay. She _knows_ it was shitty."

"I'm sorry." Naruko tried contrition. She really was sorry, but that was what being a ninja was all about. Ferreting out secrets, putting those secrets to use. Even if she wasn't technically still a ninja. Old habits die hard.

"Yeah, yeah. You're sorry so that makes it okay. I guess we're even." More sarcasm. And she was still shaking her hand. "Ow... what the hell are you made off?" She muttered and moaned pitifully. It was cute. And Naruko wanted to make her feel better. About her hand. And her identity being blown. And anything else. It was probably the hormones. Naruko would blame those. This damned teenage body. So strong and her greatest weakness was a pretty girl. Regardless of the reason, she retracted her mask and revealed her face.

"If it makes you feel better, my name is Naruko."

"_**There won't be anyone left in the city that doesn't know your face by the end of the year."**_

"_You know I've always been a softie, Kurama." _

Kurama only let out the equivalent of a psychic scoff in response.

Felicia's eyes widened and her jaw went slack for a moment, but she quickly schooled her features back into a facade of mixed annoyance and nonchalance.

"Fine. You're Naruko, I'm Felicia. Now that the secrets are all out in the open, what do you want? I've got culture to appropriate." She turned away to go back to her theft in progress.

"Agger."

"What about Agger?!" She whipped around and was almost shouting. "'Keep it small, kill him if you have to'? Your words, right? I'm sorry if I'm not the Punisher! That kind of thing doesn't come naturally to me!" Her hair was disheveled after her tirade. She continued in a lower voice and she sounded almost defeated. "I don't know what you were doing on that rooftop that night, but if you have a vendetta against Agger and you're looking for someone to do your dirty work for you, find someone else. Not that he doesn't deserve it, but I'm no killer."

"You've got me all wrong—"

"Do I though? First time I met you, you told me to kill a man. Then you track me down a week later because I haven't done it quickly enough? Paints quite a picture to me."

"Yeah, I can see how it would." Naruko looked down at her feet, hands on her hips. "But my interest in Agger began the night that I met you, believe it or not."

Felicia scoffed.

"I mean, I knew about Roxxon, the kind of scum that run it. But that's business right? Plunder as much as you can while skirting the law, seems like what the private sector considers best practice nowadays. Not much people like me—punchy athletic types—can do about that."

She looked back up and met Felicia's gaze.

"But that—" she gestured vaguely with her hand, "that shit that you uncovered—what he did to those people, your dad... Well, I—we—can do something about that. And, in my experience, revenge consumes people. I'm sorry if I assumed the worst of you, I truly am." She walked up to Felicia and put her hands on her shoulders. "I'm also glad that I was wrong. Truly. Because that means that despite this—" she gestured with her chin to the open skylight panel behind the thief, "you've got morals."

"Morals might be a little much," Felicia muttered. But the corners of her lips were turning up.

"I don't think so," Naruko said earnestly. "There's a line you won't cross. I can—I _have_ to respect that. Because you wouldn't believe how many people would cross that line as though it weren't even there."

Naruko had killed before. Many times. In the previous life. But never for something so ignoble as profit or revenge. She didn't know if that made any kind of difference. A killer was a killer. But she had to hope it did. Otherwise the reward of this new life, her parents, her reunion with Kurama, all of it would be wrong.

Felicia laid her hand over Naruko's where it rested on her shoulder.

"So, now that we've established that I'm a paragon of morality—"

They both laughed at that.

"What do we do about Agger?" Felicia finished.

"We use the evidence and we take him down and anyone that helped him," Naruko stated, simply and matter-of-factly. "We'll get justice for your dad and all those people."

"Oh? Just the two of us?"

"I'm sure a couple pretty girls can wrangle up some helping hands."

Felicia was smiling earnestly now, but her eyes were welling up. She surprised Naruko by moving in closer and hugging her. She squeezed tight and when she spoke it was into the crook of Naruko's neck and shoulder.

"So we're really gonna get him?"

"Believe it."


End file.
